


Love and Darkness

by Occula



Category: U2
Genre: Angst, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-02
Updated: 2017-10-02
Packaged: 2019-01-07 23:32:31
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 939
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12242778
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Occula/pseuds/Occula
Summary: Miscommunication complicates things.





	Love and Darkness

**Author's Note:**

> Originally posted on LJ 5/21/2003.

Larry and Adam in Larry’s room. Two men, two friends, two lovers, half drunk and holding each other as the day and its frustrations begin to slip away. Embracing, kissing, Larry unbuttons Adam’s shirt. Each is murmuring to the other.

“Adam, you’re so beautiful, so sexy —"

“God — feels so damned good —"

“I need you —"

“I don’t deserve you, Larry. I could never deserve you —"

And so it ends.

“God _damn_ it.” Larry slaps the wall with his open hand. “Just stop, can’t you stop saying things like that?”

“Lar’ — I’m sorry, I — just —" Adam flinches.

“I hate it,” Larry says, coldly as only Larry can. “It hurts me when you talk about yourself that way. I hate it when you do that. But you don’t stop — you don’t learn. It makes me fucking sick.”

Larry is so overwhelmed by his concern that he feels nauseated. He doesn’t realize that his words are like knives slipping into Adam, doesn’t understand that Adam hears him say “You make me sick” and “I hate you.”

Adam tries to apologize, but he chokes on the bitterness of it. If he could, he’d apologize for existing at all, he’d say that he doesn’t deserve anything clean and good and real. Anything like Larry. Adam doesn’t realize that Larry’s saying he loves him; he’s too full of self-loathing to understand that Larry wants to uplift and elevate him, save him. When Adam says something like he doesn’t deserve Larry, when he makes Larry lash out at him for it, eyes snapping with that frigid anger, it only proves to him that he’s right, he doesn’t deserve, he is stupid worthless useless gone.

Gone, he’s out of the room and out of the building, leaving Larry to his own large share of this night’s pain, and it’s only when the cold German night hits his skin that he realizes his coat is in Larry’s room. Fuck it. He doesn’t even button his shirt as he enters the nearest pub.

When he gets his drink, he leans back against the bar and scans the room. There, that one, you. Beautiful, but perhaps cruel, will you hurt me like I deserve? Yes, _bitte_ , come over here. Aren’t I cold? You see that I’m shaking. Yes, _ja_ , I need somebody to help me — I need you to warm me. Come with me. Let’s go.

If only my room were next to his so he could hear this. No, you put it on me. Jesus, that’s good. Fuck — fuck me — fuck you, Larry — I love you — scratch me, anything, _ja,_ leave marks, that’s what I like, I want him to see. Show him. Show him what I am, what I’m worth, show him it’s true, don’t deserve — don’t deserve —

Fuck, I hate crying. I’m okay. _Danke, danke_ , I’m, I’m, _ich gut. Ja_. Sorry. Fuck, I’m sorry.

Fuck. Fuck, I’m so fucked.

 

Larry sits on the edge of his bed, just waiting.

Finally Adam lets himself in, remorse written all over his bearing. He goes to Larry and kneels by the bed, resting his head on Larry’s knee. Larry, gently, begins to stroke Adam’s damp hair. He thinks how Adam screws around to hurt them both, but then washes away the ephemeral traces because he can hardly bear to hurt Larry after all. Or perhaps he can hurt him but can’t bear to insult him. Still, Larry thinks, Adam carries the burden of his infidelity like a cross.

Larry hates to think of, hates to _know_ of, Adam with anybody else. But worse, he hates the elements of Adam’s character that drive him to punish himself, hurt himself in the guise of lashing out at Larry. Adam was forgiven before he had even left the building, not only because Larry has an almost infinite capacity to forgive those he loves, but also because he understands that Adam never forgives himself. Never.

Adam lets out a long, shuddering sigh as Larry strokes his neck. “I’m so sorry,” he murmurs brokenly. “Lar’, I’m sorry for everything.”

“I know,” Larry says, petting. “I understand.” Larry thinks at moments like these that he can feel his heart physically expanding, stretching to contain all this, all this love and darkness, this awful pity and dreadful compassion. He feels Adam’s hot face contort against his thigh, but Adam never cries. He breathes while Larry tries to caress away the guilt and regret.

Finally he begins to massage Larry’s legs through his jeans. Larry allows him to stroke his body. Practiced fingers unbutton Larry’s jeans. The blowjob of remorse, Larry thinks. The blowjob of forgiveness. He takes off Adam’s shirt with almost steady hands and talks softly as Adam takes him into his mouth. “I wish you could see yourself as I see you,” he says. “I wish you knew how — oh god — how beautiful you are, Ad’ — fuck yes — inside and out.” He caresses the new marks on his lover’s neck and shoulders. The marks of a stranger’s hands and teeth. He wastes himself on those who don’t understand how magnificent he is. Because he doesn’t know it either. Larry leans back on both hands, his hips lifting, body arching. “I’m sorry — oh, that’s it, Adam — oh, faster, oh, fuck — so sorry — oh oh oh god Adam Adam —"

He falls back across the bed and lies trembling and glowing. Adam gently strips him and himself, tenderly tucking them both in. They lie in one another’s arms, skin to skin, pressed together from head to foot. Sleepless, but together.

One whispers, “What’s happening to us? What’s going to become of us?”

The other whispers back, “… I don’t know.” 


End file.
